Pandora's Box
by ThetaWolfe
Summary: Connor and Murphy McManus, ex-Alliance Operatives find themselves on Serenity. Can the twins ever just stay out of trouble? Do you dare to open the box? M for Language and possible twincest in the future.
1. For A Better Tomorrow

***Disclaimer: I own nothing but my original characters and ideas….and the plot bunnies in the corner. Please don't sue, I'm a poor college student that has no life and way too many video games.***

"_IRS: We've got what it takes to take what you've got. HAPPY TAX SEASON!!!"_

**For A Better Tomorrow**

Doctor Kollens liked to believe he was a righteous man. Very rarely did he fall into his temptation. He believed, truly believed that everything he did was for the greater good, for a better tomorrow. A tomorrow his children and his children's children could live in and never know what fear, hate, or anger ever felt like. That is why he did what he did. That is why he joined up for the Alliance at the tender age of sixteen. And that was why he still worked for them even now, fifty seven years later.

He was a fairly average man with fairly average looks. His hair was graying now that he as getting up in his age and his midsection was filling out as gravity started to get the best of him. Small round spectacles sat upon his hooked nose, aiding him in his failing far sightedness.

It was a late Saturday night, just past the eleven o'clock hour, and as a trauma surgeon he was surprisingly bored. They had very few incidents come into the emergency ward, and only two which required his attention. That soon changed though, for just down the street, just four and three quarters of a block down a mugging was taking place. And it went terribly, terribly wrong.

* * * * *

Molly McManus was always a loud, boisterous person, and loved by many. She was a fairly average twenty two year old woman, with curly red hair, blue eyes, and a little on the plump side, but her smile could light up the room. Her most memorable feature though, was not her appearance or her personality, it was her accent.

She grew up on a small farm in one of the many Alliance controlled outer rings. Although always poor, her family was a large and loving one and she grew up happy with what she had and never, never asked for a credit more. Her Ma and Da raised her right, her seven brothers taught her to be independent and self reliant, and her five sisters taught her to use her looks and personality to her advantage. But of course, growing up with so many siblings and in such a small community, Molly McManus had one hell of a mouth on her.

Her Irish tilt took the sting out of her words and made her more likeable. And her appearance made her appear ignorant, frail, and usable. But she was anything but that. At fifteen, she used what little money she had saved up in order to buy a charter on the first ship she could find heading into one of the core planets. She was going to make something of herself and God help whoever got in her way.

Two rosaries hung around her neck, hidden within her shirt. One belonged to her Ma and the other her Da, both passed down from their parents and so on and so forth. They had been in the family for nine generations, and being the first McManus to ever leave their tiny little planet, her parents thought it befitting to give her both, that way the Lord would always be with her.

Her comfortable white trainers made very little noise as she walked off of the transport bus and onto the street below. Spending three years a trauma nurse, she discovered comfortable overruled practicality. She worked graveyard shift anyways, and Doctor Kollens, the only supervisor in their wing overlooked the small things, as long as it didn't interfere with their work. Besides, with her eight and a half months pregnant, she doubted her swollen feet would fit into anything else.

Quickening her steps, Molly walked at a fast pace, well more of a wobble, seeing as she couldn't lift her legs quite right for it to be called walking, and hurried in order to make it to her shift on time. Doctor Kollens overlooked many things, tardiness was not one of them.

She stopped suddenly when a small foot decided to play hopscotch on her ribs. It was probably Murphy at it again, the boys most likely got into another disagreement. She knew she was carrying twins before the positive even came back on her pregnancy. She didn't know how she knew, she just did. She had already even named them.

Molly had informed everyone that she was carrying twin boys, one named Connor, after her uncle, and the other Murphy, after her cousin. Even without the ultrasound she could tell them apart. Connor was usually on her left side, slightly below Murphy's position, while the other was more often then not lodged within her ribs on the right side, just underneath her lungs. Connor was more subdued while Murphy was always fussing.

Rubbing her stomach in a soothing gesture, Molly once again took off in a fast walk. They were going to be trouble when they were born, she knew this as well. They were fighters, both of them, and she somehow knew without knowing that nothing in the 'verse could ever tare them apart.

She could see the hospital now, just several more blocks down. With only seven more minutes until her shift started, she walked as fast as she could without running so she would make it on time. So distracted by the thought of being late she never saw the man in the black hoody until he pointed a gun in her face. At that precise moment in time, like she knew with her boys, she knew at exactly that second, she would never get to see her babies. Sometimes she really hated God.

* * * * *

The supervising surgeon was enjoying a rustic ham, turkey, lettuce, and tomato sandwich with mayo when Nurse Ecklis ran in demanding he scrub up and get ready for surgery. Throwing he half eaten dinner into the trash, he ran out of the room and down to the Operating Room.

It was a twenty two year old woman with a gunshot wound to the chest, fractured ribs, broken tibia, and carrying child. He went through the motion of preparing for surgery without ever thinking about it. Jonathan Kollens could prep in his sleep he had done it so often. A nurse tied his operating gown from the back while another snapped his gloves over his sterilized hands.

He knew it was a lost cause before he even entered the room, but that didn't mean he would just give up. He mentally walked himself through the surgery and all possible outcomes, but nothing could prepare him for what he saw laying upon the table before him.

Doctor Kollens like to believe he was a righteous man. Very rarely did he fall into his temptation. Right there, on the table, bleeding, broken, and barely breathing was one such temptation he could not resist. It was Nurse McManus, it was Molly. He could still remember the first day he saw her, dressed in her baby blue smocks, red curly hair framing her barely plump face, electric blue eyes full of love and joy. He fell in love with her then, married though he was he fell in love with her.

He knew, just like she, that the children she carried were his. When Jonathan found out that their illicit love affair had produced consequences of unimaginable retribution he had demanded that she abort the pregnancy. Coming from a very religious background and believing all life was sacred, she had refused. He was her boss, he could order her to do it, but he found out in the very short time he knew her, like all men did, that Molly was a force to be reckoned with. If he were to demand again that she loose the lives within her, she would expose him to not only his wife and family, but to the board of trusties as well. He couldn't afford it.

Instead Molly had informed him that she would bare the children to term, raise them as any mother would, and with a mother like her they would never need a father. They agreed that he would give them a small percentage of his income, such an insignificant amount that it would never be questioned. He would never need to see the children and they would never know about him. It was a win-win situation as far as he saw it.

It took an insistent nurse to pull him from his shock and snap him into action. He read the floating monitor screen as he moved into place; she had lost blood, too much blood. Another doctor was hooking her up for a transfusion as he demanded a scalpel and got to work. Suddenly he wished his night could go back to being boring.

* * * * *

The surgery lasted for four hours, twenty nine minutes, and eighteen seconds. Molly McManus died on the operating table at the age of twenty two, at 3:47 AM local time, Sunday morning of June seventh. Connor and Murphy McManus were born through cesarean at 3:49 AM local time, just two minutes after their mother was declared dead.

Doctor Kollens had thought he had lost three patients that day when he pulled the two tiny bodies out of their mother's womb. They didn't move, didn't cry, they didn't even breathe. He had hated himself in the moment, as he looked upon their small unmoving lifeless bodies and all he could feel was relief. With their mother dead and no known family, they would have done a DNA test to find relatives and everyone would have known his dirty little secret.

But then two identical cries filled the small sterilized operating room at the exact same time and everyone around him cried in joy. They were alive, and all Jonathan Kollens could feel was self loathing as they wailed in the arms of two female nurses, both who were mothers themselves. He needed to do something about them before child services showed up and exposed him for the sinner he was.

Snapping his gloves off and removing his surgical cover, Doctor Kollens ripped his phone out of his pocket and called the first person he could think of. It was an old friend who worked for the Alliance's Research Department. Professor Marcus Ballmer had been looking for more subjects to mold into Operatives, and now Kollens had the perfect candidate, two in fact.

Later, after the twins disappeared, he would file a report saying they died of respiratory failure during the night do to underdeveloped lungs. They were premature after all, nobody would question it.

Jonathan Kollens was by no means heartless, he had three sons himself, and so he informed his long time friend that the twins were to retain their names and their mother's rosaries. He felt he owed Molly that much at least.

Doctor Kollens liked to believe he was a righteous man. Very rarely did he fall into his temptations. And yet, as this righteous man hung up with another who felt he was just as justified, he could not help but hate himself just a little bit more. But it needed to be done for the greater good, for a better tomorrow.


	2. All Aboard

***Disclaimer: I own nothing but my original characters and ideas….and the plot bunnies in the corner. Please don't sue, I'm a poor college student that has no life and way too many video games.***

"_The next time someone tells you 'Stick and Stones may break my bones but words will never hurt me' throw a dictionary at them."_

**All Aboard**

**Twenty Years Ago**

Professor Marcus Ballmer didn't know what to think when his long time friend Jonathan called him with his news. His friend had been unfaithful to his family by consorting with another, but that damage had already been done, and he owed Jonathan this much at least.

He agreed to take the children … no infants, and make them of some use to the Alliance. There would be some unforeseen difficulties, he had after all never had newly born children for his experiments, the youngest he had was a thirteen year old boy from some orphanage. And there were of course some requirements with the McManus twins. Marcus didn't know why, but Doctor Kollens insisted upon them retaining their names, rosaries, and for them to not be separated. It sounded like a desperate man looking for redemption and forgiveness for his weaknesses, but he would let him have that much.

He couldn't use them to make into weapons or readers for the Alliance which was unfortunate. They just didn't have the mental adaptability to survive such a procedure. But they were brilliant, and that could be used to his advantage. Early brain scans showed that even though they were just a few days old they were soaking up knowledge like it was going out of style. Prodigies, that was what his assistant called them.

After extensive data collecting and planning, Marcus made a decision. Their brains were an intricate computer system, but they seemed to be linked, probably from being twins, but then again perhaps they were just unique. The first thing the Professor did after he ran a barrage of tests on the infants, he put them through an untested and dangerous surgery to strip the walls between their minds. They could never be readers, but they could read each other, and maybe, if they could refine it, they could communicate without talking. It would be like communicating through long distances without the need of a radio.

They could be the perfect infiltration team. Nobody would be able to detect them if they had the right training and no electronic devices to leave behind an electrical fingerprint. Like his Operatives but better. The Operatives he currently has usually come under his care at the age of twenty, but these boys, with their IQ and his training, could become unstoppable.

Marcus stood in front of the two-way mirror, looking at the twin boys labeled Connor and Murphy McManus as they slept in the crib together, rosaries hanging from one of the posts. It had been a week since the surgery and they were healing nicely. He watched as the darker one, Murphy he remembered, scrunched his tiny face up in his sleep. The reaction was instantaneous.

The moment Murphy shifted in dissatisfaction, Connor followed suit, and in less then a second two tiny wails filled the air as they made their hunger known. Professor Ballmer smirked in satisfaction as he turned away, leaving two very hungry babies behind crying in their only way of communication. It wasn't feeding time yet, they still had two more hours, and the first thing they would learn is schedule.

* * * * *

**Present Day**

The Firefly class _Serenity_ set down upon Persephone on August 21, 2:13 PM local time, on a not so sunny Monday afternoon. It had been a year after the whole Miranda incident, and Mal was feeling quite content. Sheppard Book, through the Doc's amazing magic fingers and skill, was alive, healthy, and again one of his crew. Man was preaching up a storm about sin, blasphemy, and seventh circle of hell, or such, and Captain Malcolm Reynolds could not be happier.

Another pleasant surprise greeted them as they made their way back to _Serenity _after he sent the message out on Mr. Universe's lovely computer system. Turns out Wash was also alive, though badly injured. He now has a nasty scar on his midriff and walks with a permanent limp, but his crew was alright and that was all that mattered. Well that, and putting food on the table.

Work had gotten scarce after the whole Miranda fiasco and it was a chore just to keep his beautiful ship up and running. So they had to take up some honest work with their not so honest work, usually at the same time, and it was making him and his a mite tetchy.

Jayne, Zoe, River, and himself were to meet Badger and pick up the cargo when they got topside while Kaylee and Simon took some passengers aboard. Book was getting some groceries with Wash and on the way back they were to switch the other two off so his mechanic could get her supplies from the scrap yard before they took off. Inara had decided she would stay in her shuttle for the day. After all she could find very few respectable clients on a planet such as this.

"I don't like it, Captain," Zoe's calm steady voice snapped him back to the present as they stepped into Badger's den. He glanced over at her and saw her face pinched in concentration, her hand was on the butt of her gun and her whole body seemed to be gearing up for action.

He turned his gaze to Jayne and saw pretty much what he suspected, a bored lazy exterior with slightly glazed eyes. River appeared pretty much the same, so his second in command could not be talking about the meeting with Badger if their little reader wasn't on edge.

Mal raised an eyebrow at the Amazonian like woman, waiting for her to continue. He didn't have to wait long. "Taking on a job and passengers together is not a good mix, sir."

The Captain nodded his head in understanding, he didn't like it either but it had to be done. "We need the cash, and if that means taking on passengers then we take on some passengers."

Zoe gave him this look like she couldn't believe he was that stupid sometimes. "Not what I meant, sir. We just normally don't take them on at the same time with our not so legitimate jobs. Remember what happened last time?"

He physically groaned in annoyance. How could he forget, it is the reason why they were in this situation after all. They weren't allowed any more time to think on it since Badger decided to interrupt just then. It was to late anyways, his decision was made and it was already set in motion, they needed the credits, and if that meant doing both jobs at once, then so be it.

* * * * *

Connor and Murphy McManus weren't sure how long they had been on the run for but Connor was sure it was coming up on two years. Surprisingly, trying to avoid the Alliance was actually quite easy. The Alliance had stopped sending Operatives after only several months prior to their initial escape. It might have been from the fact that every Operative that the Alliance sent after them always were sent back…well their heads were at least.

They were born for this, for the kill, to murder and never be seen, to dance within the shadows and steal life from those deemed unworthy of it. The Alliance created them, trained them to be the best, and they were, and now that their toys were no longer playing for their team, they have had to settle with second best. It seemed like the higher ups came to an agreement about the McManus brothers after they received their seventh dead Operative in three weeks. They decided that as long as the twins left them alone, then they would do likewise. It's not like they had the manpower or skill to take the brothers on, even if they wanted to.

For two years they had hopped from one planet to the other, never staying in the same place for too long. Because even with the Alliance deeming them a lost cause, didn't mean that the Operatives had given up. Some of the newer recruits trying to earn their stripes sometimes came after them, and rarely, though it did happen, they were good. This was why Murphy had a slight limp to his right side from where a bullet grazed his thigh.

They had arrived on Persephone about four days ago and already they were ready to move on. Persephone may not have been a shiny planet, but it was still too open, too active, too many people. So that Monday found them at the docks, looking for ships taking on passengers. They didn't even glance at the destinations; all they cared about was the ship.

Connor's hand shot out, the back of it smacking roughly into Murphy's toned chest, gaining his brother's attention. "De fuck was da' for?"

Though the words were at best barbaric, the tone was affectionate. "Now wha' do you suppose da' righ' dere is?" Connor's hand that bore the words _Veritas_ came up and stroked his lightly bearded chin thoughtfully his other still against his brother's chest. Murphy looked to where his brother was indicating in interest. What he saw was obviously not the same thing his twin did. All he saw was a beaten up ship with an air of finality around it. The darker haired one turned back to the other and raised his eyebrow inquisitively.

"Da' righ' dere," Connor was now pointing at the ship, "Da' Ah believe is our ride." The way he said it sounded like he was absolutely positive that that ship was to be there new home for the short ride to its destination.

Murphy looked back at the Firefly Class dubbed _Serenity_ and the strange older dark skinned man that stood out front. He looked like he belonged in a Convent more then on such a well used ship. A look of uncertainty flashed across his face, and before he could tell his brother that he was nuts, Connor threw an arm around his shoulders and was steering him to the ship.

When they got closer to the ship, the obvious Sheppard stepped out to greet them. "You two looking for a ride," his tone was even, calm, and held an air of knowledge to it. The twins glanced at each other, communicating without talking. They could tell though this man was now a Sheppard, he didn't always used to be.

The exchange took only several seconds before Connor, arm still flung around Murphy's shoulder, turned back to the man and replied, "Da' we are."

* * * * *

Sheppard Book wasn't sure what to make of the two men before him. They were dressed identically with black combat boots, faded blue jeans with a worn hole on the left knee, black t-shirt, and a black Old-Chicago style Pea coat. At first he thought them a couple, with the way they walked in sync, shoulders brushing, and the way one put his arm over the other. But then he heard them talk, saw that the way they walked was too in sync, that there shoulders didn't brush enough.

He saw the lighter haired one; he wanted to say strawberry brown, slapped the other across the chest and then pointed at _Serenity_. He knew many men in his time before he went to the Abby, and these two were no stranger to violence, he could see that in the way they carried themselves, and he would bet his last helping of fruit that those two men were packing heat.

Their hands were stained with blood, it wasn't visible at the moment, but it was there all the same. He almost ignored them, let them pass by, find another ship, but then he remembered Malcolm's hands were stained as well, so were his. Here was another two sheep lost, and he was a Sheppard it was his duty to bring them back to the flock.

If you asked him why he approached them, invited them inside his now home, he wouldn't have been able to tell you what had possessed him. Book would only say that he thought it was right.

Their accent was thick, and it took him a moment to work out what was being said to him. Book was no stranger to diversity, but very rarely does one hear an old Irish accent as thick as theirs. He wonders where they came from, wonders who they are to their people back home. Are they brothers, parents, sons, lovers? It doesn't matter; not really, everyone is given a second chance on _Serenity_.

He invites them in after they show that they can pay for their voyage. As they pass him on his left he notices that they have identical tattoos on their neck. It was the Virgin Mary, mother of Christ. Maybe they didn't need as much saving as he thought.


	3. Righteous Men

***Disclaimer: I own nothing but my original characters and ideas….and the plot bunnies in the corner. Please don't sue, I'm a poor college student that has no life and way too many video games.***

"_People often accuse me of thinking the world revolves around me, but it doesn't. the world revolves around the sun, which shines out of my ass."_

**Righteous Men**

**Fifteen Years Ago**

Murphy didn't remember what had brought it on, but whatever it was must have been bad. It could have been the strange man who they called the Professor, or it could have been the needles, or maybe it was the training. Whatever it was had Murphy waking up late in the night, sweat dripping off of his bare torso, limbs trembling, and lips sealed tightly to keep from making any noise.

Both him and Connor learned early on that crying only brought more pain. He heard Connor shift in his own bed across their room. Murphy didn't have to say anything, neither of them ever did. Connor just moved further against the wall and then pulled the sheets back as his brother crawled into his bed. They held onto each tightly as Connor rocked his brother back to sleep.

The room they were in was very bare and bordering psych ward. The walls were white as were the floors, the only differentiating aspect was the door on the far wall and next to that was a mirror. They both knew that the mirror was a lie, that people watched them from behind it. They could feel their eyes but they never saw them. They never saw anybody.

The McManus brothers were five years old as of last week and neither of them had ever seen any other living human being aside from the Professor and the Trainer. The Professor came once every few sleep cycles and took them to a room filled with strange tools and sharp needles. On the days they didn't see the Professor, they were taken to a training room with a large dark skinned man with no name. Connor called him the Trainer, Murphy called him Satin.

After the Professor heard them use terms like God, Demon, Devil, Angel, and Satin he had demanded to know who they were talking to. But the brothers could not answer him because they never talked to anyone else. When questioned further about their knowledge, the Professor was left even more confused. How could two boys who have had no contact with the outside world know anything about religion, but they did and it left his mind reeling.

When the Professor stopped by their room, he would see something he saw every night. The boys were always told that they needed to sleep separately since it was the proper thing to do, and yet, night after night one of the beds, usually Murphy's was left unused. He would let them have their way for now; he was a man that knew when to pick his battles after all. Soon though, things would change.

* * * * *

When Malcolm returned to _Serenity_, he was in slightly dimmer mood then when he set out. It seemed that Badger's job wasn't going to be as easy as he thought it would be. It required them to make several stops to drop off and pick up goods. All in all, it was going to take an entire two weeks more then they had originally anticipated, but at least they were getting paid.

On the bright side the cargo was disguised as medical supplies, that way if asked they really could say it was for medical reasons this time and not totally be lying. Well, they would mostly be lying, but a little bit of it would be true. And they did say it was the little things that counted in the end.

River decided to chime in with her strange crazy lingo that always ended up being true in the end, as they stepped up into Serenity's cargo hold. "They walk on her and make a home, the two with quiet words but loud mouths," when the others looked at her in confusion she pulled a face and clarified, "We have company."

"Oh," A light bulb seemed to go off in the Captain's head. "You mean the passengers we're takin' on."

River looked at him as if he should have known that was what she meant all along. Zoe and he moved off to the cockpit while Jayne was sent to gather their visitors into the kitchen. The custom speech was to be given after they broke atmo to lay down the ground rules. Hopefully they wouldn't have a repeat of the last time they took on passengers, but he somehow got the feeling he shouldn't get his hopes up. Knowing his luck, it would probably be worse.

* * * * *

Wash turned in his chair as he put auto pilot on to greet his wife with a hug and a rather inappropriate kiss in the presence of their Captain but they couldn't really care less. It was only after a long and rather loud throat clear which then turned into an obnoxious cough did they break apart.

"Sorry Captain," Zoe said as she noticed his uncomfortable posture. She didn't look very sorry, but he let that pass.

"So, Wash, what we got?"

The pilot of _Serenity_ turned back to the screen and pulled up five profiles, one for each of the passengers that they had just taken on. The first belonged to a woman, or at least Mal was pretty sure it was a woman. Her name was Pat Velco, she was a nobody on her way to visit family near Jiangyin, just two and half weeks out of Persephone. She was rather overweight and Zoe thought she could gain to loose a few pounds from eating protein bars for a couple of weeks.

On the second screen was a rather creepy looking man named John Moran. He was a thirty-seven year old art dealer and collector which was a fancy way of saying thief. He was transporting priceless artifacts, which translates into stolen goods. Mal immediately didn't like the man, but he decided he would give him the benefit of the doubt, after all he would be considered a hypocrite if he did otherwise.

The last woman was a vixen, and that was putting it nicely. She could rival Inara in looks and that was never easy. She had long black wavy hair, dark skin and chocolate brown eyes. She was on the short side but her body was toned and muscular. Her name was Anna Vikovski, not a native from Persephone, obviously. Mal knew she was going to be trouble, but he wasn't sure if it was in a good way or the bad way.

The last screen held two profiles, they were brothers. Probably late teens early twenties, they were still just kids to Mal's eyes. Connor and Murphy McManus, also not native to Persephone, there was very little information on either of them other then they were twins. They didn't even have a destination, more of the 'for the journey' kind of people. Mal got a bad feeling from them as well.

"Alright, I think it's time we go and introduce our selves to our guests," Mal stated in his 'Captainy' voice. "Wash, you care to join us?"

* * * * *

"Now wha' do ya suppose da' is fer?"

Connor had been asking that question non stop for the last twenty minutes. First he was pointing at the cargo labeled medical supplies, both knew it wasn't though. The boxes were too big, the wrong shape, different color, and seventeen pounds six ounces to heavy. That was when his insistent question stopped being fun. He pointed at the hatch, then the medical bay, and then the shuttles. It was never ending.

Murphy knew that everything he pointed at would serve a purpose if something went wrong, but he could figure it out on his own, he didn't need is other half mocking him while he mapped the place out. It was just that one time while they were sent to assassinate a rogue Operative and Murphy forgot about the one doorway that ended up holding a bunch of men, and those men, yeah, they were holding guns. They were lucky to get out of there alive and mostly unharmed. Ever since then his brother would remind him of it by innocently questioning every aspect of their surroundings. The worst part of it was that Connor knew it was pissing his brother off.

The lighter haired male glanced over at the other and had to bite his lip in order to refrain from laughing. Murphy's face was scrunched up around the eyes and a little around the nose, lips tightly pressed together showing his displeasure. His hands were gripped tightly in fists in order to keep from hitting his brother and his whole demeanor was tense.

Connor was about to comment about his brother's lack of humor when something else caught his eye. "Now wha' do ya suppose da' is fer?"

It had the desired reaction. Murphy reeled on his brother, turning to face him so quickly it wouldn't be a surprise if he suffered whiplash. "Shu' de fuck up, Con!"

The other just grinned at his loss of composure. Both knew that in this day and age it was proper to swear in Mandarin. Nobody swore in English anymore, it just wasn't done. When the McManus twins were younger and being introduced to society they were told specifically that they needed to blend, to become one with their surroundings. And when they swore in Old-English with a mouth worse then the docking crew of the outer rings, people tended to notice. But that never stopped them before, and it wouldn't now.

Murphy thought it was stupid that people swore in a different language, because everyone spoke that language, so everyone could understand what you were saying. So why go to the trouble of wrapping it in Mandarin if everyone already knew what it was they were being told. He had said that to the Professor when he had reminded them not to speak so vulgarly. It earned him and his brother ten lashings and a contemplative look upon the Professor's face.

They were being led to the dining area and kitchen by a big burly man with the big girly name, along with the other passengers and the Sheppard they met on when they boarded. At Murphy's outburst, everyone stopped to look at brothers in interest. Book turned and started to make his way over, probably in the hopes of playing mediator.

"Wha's de ma'er Murph?"

He knew exactly what the matter was, if his face was anything to go by. He was grinning broadly, his whole body oozed satisfaction as he egged his brother on and Murphy seemed to be falling for it. Connor didn't even seem to notice the other man approach them as the others moved off.

"Ye know wha' de fuck de ma'er is. Goddamn it Con, can' ye jus shu' up fer once. Christ!"

"Lord's fuckin name, Murph," Connor reprimanded, the grin never leaving his face as the Sheppard stepped up next to them.

The darker haired twin seemed to deflate as he paused to correct his blasphemy. "Ave Maria, gratia plena."

The prayer in Old-Latin gave Book a start before he calmly stepped between the quarrelling brothers. Simultaneously they stepped back, away from him and Sheppard got the distinct feeling that he was now the one in danger by separating them. Hoping to avoid any blood shed he turned around and placed a hand on each of their shoulders before gently guiding them towards the dining area. "Now I don't mean to pry," his voice was calm and confident though he felt like he needed to tred carefully if he wanted to come out of this unscathed. "But perhaps it would be best if you two continued this conversation for another time. I'm sure that the Captain would like to meet you both and set down the ground rules."

Book physically sighed in relief when the brothers started to walk with him instead of being half dragged. He took his hands off of them and moved a half a step ahead so he was no longer completely in between them. "Ye know wha' da' means, Murph?"

The priest turned to glance back at the boys and noticed that after he had moved up, they had moved closer. "Aye, da' Ah do, Con."

The Sheppard suddenly had a sinking feeling as they grinned maniacally, the one dubbed Con throwing his arm over his brother's shoulders while the one titled Murph put his around the lighter haired one's waist. And then in unison they looked back at him and answered his unasked question. "We have te go hear his rules," Murph started.

Con finished for him, "Da' way we know in which order te break dem in."


End file.
